Eternal Ties
by AnnissaM
Summary: Sarah has bound herself to Jareth, linking their minds and souls for eternity. Now, they must both deal with the consequences and learn to live with one another because living apart is no longer an option. A sequel to "The Binding" by Gevurah.
1. The Binding

Jareth didn't need to announce his arrival in her bedroom that evening. The strange pain that had been a constant in her life for nearly a month suddenly diminished, and she knew he was there.

The pain had started just a few short hours after she'd placed Jareth's ring on her finger and bound herself to him. They had gone back to his castle, and he'd locked her in a beautiful bedchamber, too angry to do much more than spit vitriol at her before leaving her alone. Of course, as soon as he left, she promptly returned to her shabby apartment - one didn't wander the Otherworlds for twenty years without picking up a few tricks. It was then that the pain began - slight at first, but growing with time. She'd tried different pain relievers without success. When he'd found her less than twenty-four hours after her escape, causing all of the wards in Sarah's apartment to begin shrieking when he appeared on the sidewalk across the street, the pain instantly lessened. She'd almost been glad to see him until she realized what that meant.

This time, Sarah refused to react to his presence, keeping her attention focused on the hamper of laundry she was sorting into piles by color.

His eyes were focused on her - she could feel it. Worse, she could feel his disapproval as if she were the one experiencing the emotion.

"Is this how it will be, Sarah?" he asked.

This time, she did look at him, radiating innocence, though she knew she could not fool him. "What? Laundry? I probably have some room for a few of your things, if you want to throw them in with mine."

"You made a commitment."

She sighed. "You know where to find me, Jareth. I haven't locked you out. I even adjusted the wards to allow you to enter."

"As if the wards would keep _me_ out."

"They've kept out far worse than the likes of you. Anyway, I don't see how you're entitled to more."

"You are bound to me. You should be by my side, in my castle. Not in this…" Jareth sneered, "...hovel."

"The way I see it, you're bound to _me_. Why shouldn't you be at _my_ side, in _my_ castle." She tossed a bra into the pile of whites. "Remember, my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. Greater even. I don't have straw all over my floors."

Jareth made a wide gesture with his arm, transforming Sarah's small heaps of dirty clothes into neat piles of clean, folded laundry.

"Few would begrudge the staff the straw in the areas the goblins inhabit," Jareth said. "And I'm afraid the little monsters come with the territory - a fact of which you were aware when you put on that ring. And yet you would trade a lavish home and wardrobes full of beautiful gowns for this ramshackle flat and -" Jareth's lip twisted as he studied Sarah's lower half, "-whatever it is you're wearing."

She ignored his dig at her pajama pants. "Do you mean the bedroom and dresses designed for another woman?" She paused and gave Jareth a disapproving look. "Or girl, as the case may be.

"Thanks for these, by the way," she added absently, tucking the folded socks and panties into her top drawer.

"By the laws and customs of my people, she was a woman," Jareth argued, a bit petulantly, Sarah thought.

"Sure," she said with a shrug. "Any reasonable person would think so from the way she was crying for her mother."

"I redecorated the bedchamber."

Sarah raised an eyebrow and picked up another pile of clean clothes.

"And had new clothing commissioned."

"Cool," she said, sliding t-shirts into her dresser. "But I already have my own."

She changed subjects abruptly. "Have you really never worn pajama pants? You don't know what you're missing."

"I could transport you to my castle right now, Sarah."

"Yes, I know."

"I could break your spellstone."

"Only if you retrieved it from Odin's dungeon first."

"I could place you behind iron bars."

Sarah laughed lightly. "Yes, yes. You're very powerful. You'd sit behind those iron bars with me, but only for as long as strictly necessary, because we both know you can't stand being uncomfortable, and the moment you left, I'd be back here, living my life. It's been a month, Jareth. You know you can't cage me. Why do you keep trying?"

"It is for your safety."

"And if I were a housecat, that would be a perfectly reasonable argument, but I'm not, so…" she shrugged.

"You promised I wouldn't be alone!" Jareth shouted, causing the building to rumble and the lights to flicker.

Sarah narrowed her eyes and paused, letting Jareth feel her emotions, ensuring he knew just how deadly serious she was. "You want to have a tantrum? You go ahead. Feel those feelings. But let me tell you something: I'm not afraid of you. This building we're in? It's old. So old that maybe it won't survive the next hurricane that comes through. But I still sleep like a baby under its roof every night. I walk the streets and back alleys of this town knowing what might be lurking in the shadows. I've crossed the dark spaces of the Otherworlds _not_ knowing what might be lurking in the shadows. I've seen too much to be afraid of the likes of you. So let me be real clear on this: I don't fear you, I don't love you, and I'm not going to do as you say. I am _allowing_ you access to my life. So if you don't want to be alone, you're going to have to play nice, because I would rather have my skeleton vibrate right out of my skin than stick around for whatever that was."

She didn't need their weird mental connection to feel the waves of mixed emotions rolling off of him. Frustration was there, certainly. Also outrage the likes of which only the very privileged or very proud seem to feel. Disbelief was written across his features: both that she would reject his gifts and that she would ever dare speak to him in such a way. However, she did need their connection to notice the strange sense of hope he was feeling. She hadn't kicked him out, and when her words were interpreted the way an ancient fae creature or three year old human might interpret them, she'd even suggested he might stay.

She softened. "Are you hungry?" she asked, deciding to focus on that feeling of hope.

He nodded slowly.

"How do you feel about nachos?"

* * *

_This program makes no sense._

Sarah looked at the television, licking salt and grease from her thumb, and nodded in agreement. "That island is full of secrets," she said and popped another chip into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed. "I think I missed an episode, because I have no idea what's happening, either. At least the guy who plays Sawyer is pretty."

Jareth, a plate of nachos balanced on his knees, turned to look at her.

She looked back and then realized what she'd done. "Oh, sorry… this telepathy thing is new to me. Is it bad form to answer a thought?"

He shrugged and tugged a nacho out from under its blanket of cheese. _It's new to me, too._ The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly before he put the chip into his mouth.

Sarah turned back to the TV, a similar smile playing at her own lips. His emotions told her that he felt off-kilter and out-of-place eating a modest dinner off his own lap, but there was also a sense of contentment at having her close. She wondered briefly if he'd feel the same if it were anyone else sitting next to him, then she blushed, remembering he could sense her thoughts and emotions just as easily as she could feel his. She tried to focus on the show, but the pain that infused her body hadn't entirely left her. Despite Jareth's proximity, it still buzzed through her bones uncomfortably, and her attention kept sliding away from the plane crash survivors on the screen to settle on the man seated next to her. She itched to touch him and wondered if he felt the same.

"Yes," he said.

She startled. "Huh?"

"I feel it, too." He turned his strange gaze on her and she felt pinned in place.

"When will it stop?" The… you know…" She held her hands out in front of her, expecting to see them tremble, though they were both steady as rocks.

He set his plate on the coffee table. "May I…?"

Sarah sensed Jareth's intentions and nodded cautiously.

Slowly, he began peeling the gloves from his hands.

"Wait," Sarah said.

He paused.

Tentatively, Sarah reached out and took hold of Jareth's still-gloved hand. She closed her eyes and concentrated. It was still there - the buzzing, itching, restless sensation that had haunted her since that day in Odin's Hall. It was mild, comparatively, though she wasn't sure if it was because Jareth was close or because she'd gotten so used to it. She changed her focus and could sense Jareth feeling it as well.

"Had to try," she said with a shrug as she pulled her hands away. She watched as he pulled his gloves off then reached for her.

His touch was a cool ocean breeze. A cold drink on a hot day. A springtime shower.

She closed her eyes involuntarily, just drinking him in, the bone-deep buzzing gone, replaced by cool, misty calm.

The program was over when she regained her senses. She opened her eyes, and found Jareth facing her, his forehead pressed to her own, eyes closed, his emotions calm and content. The unexpected intimacy startled her, and she pulled away, rising from the couch to clear their plates and wash up.

She could sense him leaning against the wall of the kitchen as she put the plates in the sink.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

Still flustered, Sarah hadn't stopped to consider that the pain was still gone, despite no longer being in contact with Jareth. She looked at her hands in surprise.

"How long do you suppose that will last?"

"Time will tell."

She rinsed the plates and put them into the dishwasher.

"I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed."

Jareth mentally acknowledged her, then followed closely behind as Sarah went to her bedroom. When she finally turned to look at him, he was wearing nothing but pajama pants slung low over his hips. Sarah wondered how he was keeping them up.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, not quite able to meet his eyes as they were too busy following the two lines of his abdominal muscles as they narrowed and disappeared under his new pajamas.

"Going to bed," he answered. "I thought I'd give these a try," he added, brushing non-existent fuzz off his bottoms.

"Not in this bed, you're not."

"Sarah," he drawled. "You had no qualms sleeping by my side in Odin's dungeon. And now that we know skin to skin contact eases the pain of separation, why do you insist on remaining apart?"

He had a point, and it irritated her that he knew she agreed.

"The floor is close enough."

Relief washed over her as Jareth sighed and acquiesced. With a small gesture, a fluffy pallet appeared on the floor next to Sarah's full-size bed. She looked at the sumptuous pillows and blankets and tried to tamp down the jealousy she felt. Despite being a pallet, it was easily more luxurious than anything she'd ever slept in. She bit her cheek in annoyance and pulled her scratchy comforter over herself, turning away from him, and turning off the lamp.

She laid like that for a long time, focusing on her thoughts to allow Jareth privacy in his own. Slowly, his thoughts calmed until they were smooth as glass, and only then did her thoughts turn toward Odin's Hall and Uthor's knife.

Rubbing the skin where the scar should have been, she thought about how Uthor had wrapped her own hand around the knife and slowly forced it into her chest. Though the memory was as clear as the moment it had happened, there was no scar, no soreness, nor any indication that she'd ever been stabbed. Her skin was as smooth and unblemished as the day she was born. She thought about the feeling of it piercing her skin, that brief moment of resistance before her skin broke and the knife cut deeply into her. The shortness of breath. The taste of blood.

She shuddered and wondered if the nightmares would haunt her again tonight. She folded her hands next to her face, rubbing her lip against the warm gold of her ring and breathing in the familiar and calming scent of dreams and wishes - the scent of Jareth.

Her body began to ache for him. Apparently, touch relief didn't last very long.

Eventually, she could stand it no longer, the short respite she'd enjoyed after holding Jareth's hands making her more desperate to end the discomfort as soon as she could. She quietly pushed back her covers and lowered herself onto his pallet. The soft fabrics and furs caressed her skin, but nothing calmed her until she pressed herself against his bare back and put her arm around him. The tension seemed to drain from her and she sighed, reveling in the sensation as if she could absorb it. Only then was she able to close her eyes and fall asleep.

* * *

The original story, _The Binding_ by Gevurah can be found right here on ff dot net. The tone of this story is going to be far different, but so will the conflict. Do you have to read _The Binding_ to understand this one? Probably not, but it's a great story and I highly recommend it!

Thank you to Exulansist for beta-reading for me!


	2. The Reality

Sarah's first conscious thought was that she'd never been more comfortable in her life. The mattress perfectly cradled her body as she laid on her side and the pillows and blankets were the softest she had ever felt. She nuzzled the pillow a little, relishing the feel of the silk sheets. It seemed almost a shame that her flannel pajamas separated her from them. She sighed and snuggled into the warmth of the bed, relishing the sweet scent that enveloped her. And then she registered the solid presence behind her.

She froze as memories from the night before came rushing back.

When she'd crawled into his bed the night before, she had pressed herself against Jareth's back, relieving both of them of the growing separation pains, but they'd somehow switched positions in the night and he was now practically wrapped around her, one bare hand tucked under her nightshirt and splayed just under her breast.

Just where Uthor had stabbed her.

She shuddered and felt Jareth's embrace tighten.

He was awake. She craned her neck to look at him behind her.

He had his head propped up on his other hand and was already looking back at her.

"Feeling refreshed?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered and was surprised that it didn't feel like a concession. It had been one of the most pleasant and restful nights she'd ever had. "Maybe we _should_ be sleeping with-" she cut herself off, "-_by_ each other every night."

"I know which I'd prefer, but either way suits me… for now."

Sarah blushed.

"Will you be joining me Underground, then?" he continued.

"Um...no," Sarah said, rolling off the pallet and climbing to her feet. "Not for anything more than a short visit, anyway."

"Are you proposing a part-time solution?"

She sat down on her bed. "I'm not proposing anything yet. I had a full life before you waltzed back into it."

"As I recall, you waltzed back into _my_ life," he replied, shifting his hips to prop himself up on his elbows, the blankets falling around his waist, leaving his chest bare.

"All I'm saying is I don't mind going Underground once in a while. But you'll need to be patient, because I won't be held against my will and I'm not quite ready to uproot my entire life just so you can go back to business as usual."

"How much time will you need?"

"I don't know that it's a matter of time. I may never be willing to move permanently." She looked down at him on his palette on her bedroom floor, a space he'd carved out for himself in her life. "And I wouldn't expect you to move Above permanently, either."

"What do you plan to do?"

She sighed. Her blank mind was all the answer she could give, and she felt his exasperation.

"In that case, what are your plans for today?" he asked. As he rose from the palette, it vanished, leaving Sarah's bedroom floor clear. He turned and left the room without waiting for an answer.

"Today?" She said as she rose and followed him into the living room. Thinking quickly, she realized it was Saturday. "Today I clean the house and run my errands."

"Run me through it," he said, settling on the couch and throwing his leg over the armrest.

She studied the waistband of Jareth's pants, trying to decide if they were slung even lower than they were before he sat down. It took a moment for his request to register in her brain. "Run you through my chores?" she asked, finally.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

She began to go through her list, slowly at first, but quickly gaining steam as her list grew longer, breaking down her chores into smaller tasks just to make herself seem busier, especially since he'd already finished her laundry. She finished, "And then I need to run to Walmart and get some groceries and a few other things."

"This all sounds very dull," he sighed.

"You don't have to stick around. We're both feeling fine. Go about your day and we can meet up when the pain comes back."

His eyes narrowed and Sarah felt his unhappiness with this arrangement.

She hesitated before speaking again. "Do you… want to stay and help, maybe?"

He gave her a thoughtful look, though she sensed his immediate acceptance of her offer. She thought how strange it was that he still put up the imperious facade even though he knew she could see right through it.

_You do it too,_ came his mental response.

She smiled guilty and Jareth matched her expression.

"Do you perform a ritual before beginning your day?" he asked.

"Um… yeah," she replied, surprised by the question. "I'll just go do that, then. Give me twenty or thirty minutes."

She rushed through her morning routine, feeling strange knowing Jareth was in her home unsupervised. But she couldn't sense him doing anything unwelcome. In fact, she wasn't picking up much from him at all. She wondered if it was possible to hide thoughts.

When she emerged from the bathroom, she stopped in her tracks and looked around. The apartment was immaculate - every chore she'd mentioned to Jareth was complete and he'd been far more thorough than she would have been.

She was speechless.

"I understand 'errands' are next?" he said, pulling on fresh gloves. The pajama bottoms he'd been wearing were gone, replaced with snug trousers, a blousy white shirt, and high black boots.

"How did you…?"

"Magic." _Obviously_, he mentally added, his face betraying no signs of his thoughts. He kept his eyes firmly on his hands as he straightened his gloves.

Sarah sputtered her thanks while ignoring the mental gibe.

"Errands?" Jareth repeated, ignoring her thanks and adding an asymmetrical leather jacket to his outfit.

"Errands," Sarah agreed.

* * *

Sarah lifted the little shopping cart as she stepped over the railroad tracks.

"How do you tolerate it?" Jareth asked.

"It weighs less than ten pounds, Jareth. Wait until the trip back - _that_ gets tricky."

"Not the trolley," he said, exasperated. "The iron."

Sarah looked down the disused tracks. They disappeared around a nearby bend, but she knew they continued on for thousands of miles.

"It's everywhere," she shrugged. "I don't even notice it."

_You will_.

Sarah furrowed her brow, then focused on Jareth. Through him, she could feel how, even at a distance, the iron in the tracks felt red hot and ready to burn. Even her cart, made of some flimsy alloy and coated in rubber, seemed warm to him.

"Oh… I see. I guess that explains the gloves. It must be pretty uncomfortable for you up here." She thought for a moment. "You know I have iron in my blood, right? That doesn't bother you?"

"On the contrary," he said. "It makes you delightfully warm."

He was itching to touch her. Sarah could feel it. She reached out with her free hand and touched his arm. It felt good - this ability to just touch him whenever she wanted. Like she was being granted a privilege she would never have dreamed of just one short month earlier.

His thoughts quickly turned to his relief that she hadn't asked him to get into a car.

She smiled at the thought of him in the passenger seat of an old beater. "I don't even have one."

"No? I thought they were quite common in your part of the world."

"They are, but you need a license to drive one and it's just easier for me to walk." She shrugged. "I've got two perfectly good feet."

"Why do you not have a license?"

Sarah thought for a moment. "How old would you guess I am?"

"Ah, yes. Your gift from the Labyrinth."

"Mhm," she agreed. "So here I am, just a few months shy of thirty-nine and if I try really hard, I might pass for eighteen. Let's just say the DMV is less than understanding when I tell them my birthday." She thought for a moment before continuing. "I tried a fake one once. Didn't go very well. It's just easier not to deal with it and, as I'm sure you've noticed, I have other ways of getting around."

It was just a tiny dig, but it didn't lessen Jareth's indignation that she'd said it at all. She dropped her hand to her side.

"Anyway, cars are expensive," she said.

"And money is an issue?"

"Well, now, _that's _a tricky subject."

"How so?"

"You sure you want to talk finances? I'm pretty sure etiquette says that's a no-no."

"I think our situation may be one of the exceptions to that particular rule."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that," she sighed. "Ok, so it's not that I don't have any money. Right now, I'm actually pretty flush with cash. It's that I can't hold a normal job, and not just because I look like I haven't graduated from high school. I have a lot of contacts in the Otherworlds and I never know when I'll be pulled away to help. Turns out, employers don't like it when you just up and disappear for a few days or weeks. One time, I was gone for three solid months. I thought it had been two days! My boss was less than impressed when I showed up for work and asked if he'd had a good weekend."

Jareth chuckled, and Sarah was surprised at how pleasant it sounded.

"I don't turn down people who need help and I never demand payment, but some people insist and give me little trinkets…"

"Or favors?"

"Or favors," Sarah confirmed. "You can't be surprised," she added with a grin.

"I'm quite aware of how you've been escaping the castle. I'm only surprised your _friends_," he made a face at the word, "had the courage to defy me in my own home."

"Oh, please. Compared to what I've seen in the Otherworlds, you clock in at the low end of the evil scale."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Jareth, you are a minor villain, _at best_."

"Fascinating," he said, and he truly seemed to mean it.

They crossed the street and turned onto the main road. Sarah took the outside half of the sidewalk, placing herself between Jareth and any cars parked along the road.

"Anyway… when they don't pay me in favors, they pay me in trinkets. Well, I say 'trinkets.' I don't know what else to call them. Little baubles. Doodads. Bits of glass and metal. They're usually pretty and so far, they've all been valuable. Most appraisers I take them to are shocked at the sheer age of them. I store them in a safe place and once in a while, I put one or two up for auction to maintain my lifestyle."

"Ah."

"But the catch is, I never know when I'll get my next job, and I never know if I'll be paid. So, basically, I have money, but I don't know how long I'll need it to last." She rubbed the non-existent scar under her breast. "Plus, I just found out that my life may be a whole lot longer than I originally anticipated, so that's a fun new complication.

"Did you know?" she asked.

For the first time, Jareth's mood was unreadable. "Not until I saw you in Odin's dungeon. And even then, I didn't consider the ramifications."

"I should have died. I think I might have. But then I woke up and the wound was healed." She paused for a moment. "Does that mean I'm immortal? Is that what you meant earlier? When you said I'd eventually start feeling the iron?"

"I said nothing of the sort."

"You know what I mean. Am I turning into…," she paused, unsure what to call him, "...whatever you are?"

He didn't speak his answer, and she could tell he was trying to block the answer from her. She only received a garbled, half-hidden affirmative.

"Jareth, I need to know. What is going to happen to me?"

"How far are the shops?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Further than you think," she replied shortly, and walked a little faster, trying to put even the smallest amount of distance between them.

* * *

Sarah had known Jareth was vain, but this was the first time he'd ever seemed self-conscious.

"You look fine," she assured him.

"I look inhuman," he corrected.

"It suits you," she smirked as the doors slid open and she stepped inside.

He reluctantly followed.

"Welcome to Walmart!" an elderly woman chimed.

"You don't think I need a glamour?" Jareth asked.

"The makeup is in aisle three, sweetie. Right down there." The greeter smiled as she pointed the way.

Jareth eyed the woman, then followed Sarah as she tucked her trolley onto the bottom shelf of the shopping cart and wandered further into the store.

"She didn't look the least bit frightened," Jareth said and Sarah felt his surprise. Or was it dismay?

"This is Walmart, Jareth. She sees way scarier things than you every day."

She pushed the cart toward the paper products and lifted a package of Charmin from the shelf.

"What, exactly, is that for?"

As she dropped the toilet tissue into her cart, she contemplated different ways to explain its use, but when Jareth pulled a face, she guessed he'd figured it out.

"What? Like you've discovered a better way?"

"In fact…"

He sent her a mental image. Sarah squirmed, and then considered.

"Actually, that does sound better. What's the third seashell for?"

Another image.

Sarah's eyebrows went up in pleased surprise. "Huh… can you get me some of those?" she asked, pulling the toilet tissue out of her cart.

"When you live Underground, you may take advantage of all of the amenities."

"I see," she said pointedly and dropped the package back into the cart.

In the frozen food aisle, the lights behind the freezer doors flickered. They caught Sarah's attention, but Jareth's mood overshadowed the lights.

"Are you doing that?" she asked in a whisper.

He didn't respond and she felt his irritation.

"What…?"

And then she caught what he was thinking. He was an agent of chaos and his magic was made to sow discord. He'd been holding himself back, holding his magic back from interfering with the electronics in the store. The automatic doors had worked, the lights stayed on, and the freezers continued to keep the food frozen, but it all came at a cost.

"But my apartment?"

He nodded. But her apartment was old and the electric appliances were simple. Her TV was the most advanced piece of electronics she owned.

"Here…" Sarah said, forgetting her earlier irritation with him. She laid her hand against his cheek, and he leaned into it, his immediate relief apparent on his face. "That's kind of neat," she said. "How does that work?"

"It's the soul bond," Jareth replied. "We're two halves of a whole now, and you are perfectly comfortable being around all of… this, which eases the discomfort I feel."

Sarah wondered if it would be the same Underground. Would she feel more comfortable there if she was in constant contact with Jareth?

_That is the intention. Each bonded half making the other stronger._

A woman with a toddler in her cart reached around Sarah to grab a bag of tortellinis from the freezer. "Don't mind me! Don't mind me!" she said.

Sarah startled and pulled her hand away from Jareth's cheek. "Sorry."

"No worries," the woman said, dropping the bag into the cart. She looked at Sarah with a smile, then at Jareth. She studied him for just a moment before looking back at Sarah, the smile fading from her face.

Sarah saw the woman's eyes dart back and forth between them before the woman finally said to Jareth, "I'm sorry to bother you. Would you mind grabbing that box from the top shelf down there?" She pointed to a large box of cereal at the end of the aisle. "I can't quite reach it."

Jareth looked for a moment as if he might refuse, but Sarah gave him a gentle push and he slowly walked down the aisle to retrieve the item.

The woman waited until Jareth was out of earshot, then leaned toward Sarah and quietly asked, "Are you ok? Do you need help?"

Jareth stiffened.

Sarah put on her most mature expression and assured the woman that she was fine. "He's only here because I asked him to be," she assured the woman. "And I am much older than I look." She flashed her her most confident and reassuring smile and the woman, somewhat appeased, but not entirely convinced, nodded and continued down the aisle.

Jareth handed her the box of cereal as she passed by. The woman hesitated before dropping it into her cart and moving on.

Sarah looked after the woman as she walked away, then at Jareth, who was looking at the child in her cart with keen interest.

"Don't even think about it," she warned.

His complete lack of reaction put her on her guard.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Your Labyrinth's gift again. I think you'll find that people around here aren't too keen on old men hitting on teenagers."

Jareth's eyes narrowed in indignation, but Sarah simply continued down the aisle and headed for the cashier.

As she put her items on the conveyor, she noticed the woman and her child had gotten into the line behind them.

The beeping of the scanner faded into the background as Sarah watched Jareth produce a crystal and begin to spin it over his hands and arms as the rapt baby looked on. Even the child's mother was entranced, watching the crystal spin and levitate. A few passersby also stopped to watch, and one pulled out a fancy new phone to take a video.

Jareth finished his show with a flourish and made the crystal disappear. The crowd applauded, but the baby began to cry, upset that the cool toy Jareth had been playing with had suddenly vanished.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Jareth produced the crystal once more, tossing it into the air, spinning it over his hands and up and down his arms before letting it come to a stop on the very tips of his fingers. The boy laughed. Then, Jareth brought his other hand up, hiding the crystal for a moment. When he moved his hand, the crystal was gone, replaced by a large, red lollipop.

The boy's eyes were huge as Jareth offered it to him.

There was a pop from the direction of the crowd that had gathered followed immediately by an exclamation of dismay from the man with the phone, but before Sarah could see what the problem was, the cashier spoke up.

"Miss? That'll be $78.06."

Sarah turned back to the cashier who was waiting for her payment. Sarah tapped her card against the machine and it beeped its acceptance. Jareth was loading the little shopping trolley with Sarah's purchases as the cashier handed her her receipt.

As they cleared the automatic doors of that store, Jareth pulling the trolley behind him, Sarah said, "I hope that sucker was safe for that baby."

"Of course it was safe," Jareth countered, insulted.

"After what his mother did, I wouldn't be surprised if you tried to take some kind of revenge."

"His mother tried to save a young girl from what she thought was a bad situation. Our goals align."

"Saving children from bad situations? That's how you explain what you do?"

"That's what I know I do. You of all people should know that."

Sarah colored. "I got Toby back."

"And became a better person for the effort."

Sarah sulked, but didn't argue.

_Minor villain,_ he scoffed.

"That little boy has everything he wants," Jareth continued, his mood lifting. "Food, shelter, loving parents. It doesn't get much better for a child than that."

Sarah thought for a moment about the child and the kindness his mother had shown, and found her own mood lightened as well. "A little sugar doesn't hurt, though."

"Indeed it doesn't," he replied, taking Sarah's hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And, in that moment, Sarah believed it was.


End file.
